Searching the World for What's Right Here
by The-Unknown-Artist
Summary: A late night ride home on the tube, right after a long case. John's fallen asleep on Sherlock's shoulder, leaving him to observe and to ponder certain things. Mostly John. Something short and sweet for you.


It's right after a case, when it's already 1 in the morning, and Lestrade's told them to go home because he can handle the rest, and their adrenaline highs are just beginning to crash, that Sherlock and John sit together on the tube that night. Sherlock instinctively wraps his arm around John's waist. He gives him a light squeeze on the side before turning to gaze out the window. He watches the lights begin to fly by the window of the train with his half lidded eyes. He leans his head closer just so his cheek is touching the chilled window glass. A content sigh escapes through his lips and briefly fogs up the glass. A strange cold-warm feeling stirs in his chest. In his tired state, the lights outside start to blur together in an array of colors.

He can feel John finally rest his head against Sherlock's shoulder. He expects him to fall asleep in the following 10 minutes. They won't reach their destination for another 40 so he lets him sleep. There are few other's on the cart, it's mostly empty except for a woman wearing a blue cardigan -Night shift worker at a local bank, and a man in a suite -lawyer, worked late on a case. Funny, so had he. The man clutches his brief case and shifts anxiously every time he peers at his wristwatch. He is young but there is a wedding ring on his finger. Obviously he is eager to return home to his new wife. Sherlock has felt the same zeal to return to his own 'wife' after a long case without him. He catches the lawyer's gaze and nods to him in emphatic understanding. The lawyer looks confused and turns away.

John shifts a bit to a more comfortable position, nuzzling his nose into the space between Sherlock's neck and shoulder. He breaths out a puff of warm air and it tickles Sherlock's neck a bit. He slowly turns his head, careful not to disturb his sleeping beauty, and peeks at him. Face muscles are relaxed, perhaps for the first time in a few days, there are dark circles under his eyes and his lips are parted just slightly. His breathing is slow and even, with every exhale there is a tiny sigh that comes from his lips. How Sherlock adores John's sleeping noises. He's recently realized they are one thing he can't sleep without. The room can never be too silent, he must be able to hear John's soft snores or tiny moans and especially his breathing. Sherlock must always know that John is breathing.

The train shutters to a stop and John is momentarily woken from his slumber. _Imbeciles,_ Sherlock thinks. _You've woken him too soon._ John lifts his head up and mumbles some nonsense before Sherlock whispers into his hair to go back to sleep. He happily does so, and Sherlock is content once again.

The rest of the ride goes smoothly. It is completely silent, with the exception of John's soft snoring, which Sherlock so adores. The bank employee and the lawyer have both gotten off, leaving Sherlock and John alone. Sherlock brushed back a few strands of John's hair to reveal his face. The same face he's analyzed and studied and memorized for over 3 years. Why then, does he feel such exquisite warmth every time he looks at it? Why then, when he kisses those lips it always feels like their first time? Surely he must be used to John by now, but he isn't. Everything still feels so new, so fresh. And if he's not mistaken, he's liking John more and more each day. Like wine, his adoration for John gets better with age. It's inconceivable, illogical, and so very true. Sherlock wondered what great power above had blessed him with such an unbelievable man. He wished he could send them a nice fruit basket, or a cake.

They'd finally reached their destination. Sherlock gently shakes John away and is gifted with a tiny sleepy noise that just melts his heart completely.

"Come on John. We're almost home."

A sleepy smile and a hand grabbing onto his own. "Lead the way."


End file.
